Sueur
by delectibal
Summary: In which Will shakes and sweats, and Hannibal comforts him in all ways.


When Will first began to share space with him in his bed (tentatively, always tentatively), Hannibal knew that he'd be taking in a stray, one that whimpered and flicked its paws in phantom motions, one that cried out in the night and dampened the pillows, piled high, with cold fear.

"The reason it took so long for me to agree to this was … because I was afraid of driving you away. My biggest fear was that you'd kick me out because … because of my sweating," the curly headed FBI profiler admitted slowly one morning, his hands clasped tightly between his knees as he sat on the edge of the bed. They had awoken together as usual, one to fill the house with the smell of French coffee, one to strip the sheets in thinly veiled panic and bring them to the washroom.

Hannibal merely smiled in that secret way he had, silk pajamas whispering as he gracefully sank down onto the mattress beside his partner. "I knew about your night terrors long before I slept with you," came the murmured reply, a delicate nose tracing along the edge of Will's soaked shirt collar. "I was aware of what the horror usually brings.

"Even so," the former surgeon amended, pausing in his languid tour of Will's neck, "your sweating seems more profuse than most. I won't say I wasn't surprised the first time it happened, but in your case, the scent you emit is rather pleasing … like _petrichor … _dry earth after a long rain."

It wasn't as if Will were _dirty_ in any sense; the man showered frequently. Hannibal, in fact, quite enjoyed how the fragrance of the day, of cologne and traffic and dogs and people, washed away in the clean wave of Will's sweat, made way for the sticky, rich smell of their coupling that lingered even now. Hannibal, the meticulously put-together stickler for neatness, embodiment of all things tidy and clean, _liked_ that his lover could be reduced to nothing but a slick stain on the bed.

The look Will gave him was full of such love and gratitude and _trust_ that Hannibal couldn't help but tug him back down onto the satin sheets and place his mouth on every inch of skin laid out before him. Old tee-shirt and boxers were shed, monogrammed pajamas were unbuttoned and torn from shoulders thick with coiled muscle. Will arched up, gasping soundlessly as the long fingers that had pleasured him so thoroughly the night before returned to him, probing, teasing, wetting before what he truly longed for was thrust inside. And he sweat—oh, did he sweat.

* * *

"You're going to be late for your appointments," Mr. Graham mumbled lazily from the plush mound of pillows and blankets he'd formed into a cozy nest.

Dr. Lecter grinned, reaching out to gently tap the chocolate-haired man's nose. "You don't see me chastising you for missing your meeting with Jack, _mon précieux mangouste_."

The two of them shared a quiet moment, wrapped in the bliss of their morning, before Will sat up and fixed the psychiatrist with luminous, somber eyes.

"What is your greatest fear, Hannibal?"

The flaxen-haired doctor frowned thoughtfully. After some quiet contemplation, not of the answer, but of whether to divulge said answer, he turned away in almost shy penitence.

"I've lived my greatest fear … I feared that you would someday know me as the Chesapeake Ripper. I feared that you would hate me, turn me away from both your bed and your life. I feared that I would crumble without you."

A hand reached out from the bedding and covered Hannibal's silently. There was no need for a verbal response on Will's part: they both knew full well what they had given up for one another. It was said in the lines of Will's brow, in the dark understanding of Hannibal's eyes. The lengths their love had gone, was going, _would_ go, was terrifying to behold from the outside. Nothing but the two of them, swallowed into a world that was entirely of their creation, could understand what exactly their bond meant, only that it was profound and rooted deep, _too_ deep, within them to ever be torn away.

"You …" Hannibal's lips formed a small smile. "You have put my fears to rest, Will. I am eternally thankful for that. One day I hope to erase your fears as well. For you are forever mine, just as I am forever yours."


End file.
